(Y/N)'S PAST:

I've never been one to wear my heart on my sleeve. If you'd known me back in high school, you might have thought I was a tough nut, but it wasn't always this way. The walls I built around myself were hard-earned, born from a past that left deep scars.

Growing up, my life was a constant struggle. I came from a middle-class family, and though we managed to get by, it was never easy. My parents worked tirelessly to provide for us, but their efforts were often overshadowed by the constant financial strain we faced. They were good people, hardworking and kind, but they were always stressed. And when you're stressed, it's easy to let the little things slip away—like spending quality time with your children.

My dad was my hero. He worked hard, always smiling despite the hardships. He used to say, "Life is tough, kiddo, but so are you." I held onto those words like a lifeline.

I was about twelve when things took a turn for the worse. My father, the one person who made me feel safe, was taken from us. I remember the day vividly: the police at our door, my mother's shattered sobs, the numbing emptiness that settled in my chest. My dad went out one night to buy groceries, and he never came back. The police told us he was ganged up on by some drunk goons. He tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. They beat him to death. She collapsed on the floor, wailing, and something inside me broke that day. The world seemed to tilt off its axis, and nothing was ever the same again. The void he left behind was immense, and his absence was a constant, aching reminder of how fragile our little bubble of normalcy had been.

The financial strain on my family worsened after his death. My mother, already overwhelmed by the loss, struggled to keep us afloat. I could see the exhaustion etched into her face, the way she fumbled through our daily lives, trying to keep everything together. I wanted to help her, but all I could offer was a young girl's determination to make things easier. I started working part-time jobs and taking on responsibilities at home, trying to ease the burden however I could.

It was during these tumultuous years that I found solace in martial arts. I'd always been a fighter at heart, but after my father's death, I needed something more—a way to channel my anger, my grief, and my fear. I threw myself into it with a passion. Training was grueling, but it was also an escape. It taught me discipline, control, and how to harness my strength in a world that seemed to crumble around me. I learned to fight, not just with my fists but with my willpower. It became my sanctuary, a place where I could focus on something beyond the pain of my daily life.

::.............................................::

High school was a new chapter, and it was there that I met Sukuna. He was different from anyone I had ever known. When we first crossed paths, I was immediately struck by his confidence and the way he seemed to light up a room. Despite his rough exterior, there was something undeniably captivating about him. He was wild, untamed, but there was a vulnerability beneath his bravado that I saw glimpses of.

I remember the day I met Sukuna in high school. I was seventeen, fresh from a year of intense training, feeling invincible yet deeply scarred inside. Sukuna was everything I wasn't—he was charming, confident, and had this enigmatic aura that drew people in. We crossed paths in the school gym, where I was practicing my kicks. He watched me from the sidelines, an amused smile on his lips.

"Not bad," he said, walking up to me. "You've got quite the punch."

I was taken aback by his casual confidence. "Thanks," I replied, though I was wary. "Do you know anything about martial arts?"

"I know enough," he said with a wink. "Care for a spar?"

He was drawn to me, not just because of my strength but because he saw something more. Maybe it was my resilience or the way I carried myself, but he was captivated. We started talking, and before long, what began as a friendship evolved into something deeper. He was my refuge, the one person who made me feel understood and appreciated.

For a time, we were happy. We shared dreams, fears, and a kind of intimacy that was rare for me. He was my rock, and I was his. We had this bond that felt unbreakable. 

Our relationship blossomed, and I fell hard for him. He was my everything, and I thought I was his. We made plans, talked about our future, and for a while, it seemed like I had finally found my happily ever after. He promised me that he would always protect me, that he would never let anyone hurt me again. But as they say, all good things must come to an end.

And promises are just words, and words can be broken.

It was the beginning of our senior year when things started to change. Sukuna's wild nature, which had initially drawn me to him, started to show its darker side. He became increasingly reckless, and the lines between his charm and his dangerous tendencies blurred. 

Sukuna became distant, his once warm eyes now cold and calculating. He started hanging out with a different crowd, people who brought out the worst in him. I tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but he pushed me away, his temper flaring in ways I had never seen before.

Our relationship started to unravel. The traits I once admired in him became sources of frustration. He was unpredictable, and his behavior grew erratic. He was still the same person I loved, but he was also becoming someone I struggled to understand. It was a constant battle between the man I loved and the chaos he was becoming. I found myself caught between wanting to save him and needing to protect myself.

The sweet, caring boy I fell in love with became someone I barely recognized. He became possessive, controlling, and violent. The first time he hit me, I was too shocked to react. The second time, I fought back, but he was stronger.

Our relationship became a twisted game of power and control. Sukuna would hurt me, and then he would apologize, promising never to do it again. And like a fool girl in love, I believed him. I wanted to believe him because the alternative was too painful to bear. I was trapped in a cycle of abuse, unable to break free.

One night, things escalated. Sukuna had been drinking, his eyes dark with rage. He accused me of cheating on him, of betraying him. I tried to calm him down, to reason with him, but he was beyond reason. He grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. I struggled to breathe, my vision blurring as he tightened his grip.

"Why do you make me do this?" he hissed, his face twisted with fury. "Why can't you just be mine?"

I clawed at his hands, my nails digging into his skin. "Let me go, Sukuna," I gasped. "Please."

He released me, and I fell to the floor, gasping for air. He stood over me, his chest heaving with rage. "You're mine, (Y/N). You'll always be mine. Don't you ever forget that."

::.............................................::

The final straw came when he betrayed my trust in the most unforgivable way. It was a night that still haunts me. We were supposed to celebrate an anniversary, but instead, I found him with someone else.

That night, I decided to surprise him by going a little early than the fixed time, hoping to rekindle the spark we once had. I made my way to his house, excited to see him. But as I approached, I heard voices coming from inside. Laughter, hushed whispers, and then a moan that sent a chill down my spine. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened the door and walked in on the scene that would shatter my world.

Sukuna was in bed with another girl, their bodies entwined in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. The girl was someone I knew, a classmate who had always eyed Sukuna with jealousy. The betrayal cut deep, the sight of them together searing into my mind. I stood frozen, unable to move or speak, my world crumbling around me.

Sukuna noticed me first. Instead of guilt or remorse, his expression was one of annoyance. 

My heart shattered. "Sukuna, what the fuck is this?" I screamed, my voice breaking.

He looked at me, unbothered, and shrugged. "What does it look like? We're having a little fun."

"A little fun? You're cheating on me!" I could barely contain my rage and hurt.

"Don't be so dramatic, (Y/N). It was just sex. It doesn't mean anything," he said casually, as if it was no big deal.

The betrayal cut deep. I felt like an idiot for believing in him, for loving him. "We're done," I said, my voice cold and final. "Don't ever come near me again."

I turned and ran, my heart breaking with each step. The boy I had loved, the one who had promised me the world, had destroyed everything in a single moment. That night, I cried until there were no tears left, the pain so intense it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside.

The betrayal was like a physical blow, a gut-wrenching pain that I couldn't escape. I confronted him, and his apologies were hollow, a meaningless attempt to soothe the damage he had done.

That night, my world fell apart. The man I had once trusted with my heart had shattered it into a million pieces. I tried to move on, but the hurt was deep, the trust irrevocably broken. I threw myself into my training even more, using it as a means to escape the pain. I buried myself in my work, focusing on my goals and pushing aside the memories of a love that had once been so beautiful and now felt so tainted.

Despite the pain, I couldn't fully let go of him. There were moments when I missed him terribly, when I wished things could have been different. But I knew that holding on to the past would only keep me trapped in a cycle of hurt and regret. I tried to rebuild my life, to find some semblance of normalcy. But every now and then, memories of Sukuna would resurface, a reminder of a love that was once so intense and now felt like a distant, aching wound.

As the time went by, I learned to live with the scars. They became a part of me, a testament to the battles I had fought, both internal and external. I continued my training, honing my skills and building a life that was slowly moving forward. But the past was always there, a shadow that lingered at the edges of my consciousness.

::.............................................::

After high school, things didn't get any easier. My mom's health deteriorated rapidly. The years of overworking and grief took their toll on her. By the time I graduated, she was a shadow of her former self. I tried to take care of her, but there was only so much I could do. She passed away a year later, leaving me completely alone.

The loss of my mom was devastating. She was the last piece of my family, the only one who truly understood the pain we had endured. I remember sitting by her hospital bed, holding her hand as she took her last breath. 

"I love you, Mom," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'll make you proud. I promise."

She gave me a weak smile, her eyes filled with love and sorrow. "I know you will, sweetheart. Be strong. Live your life."

Those were her last words to me. After she passed, I was numb. I had no family left, no one to turn to. But I knew I had to keep going. I had to honor their memories by living the life they wanted for me.

I moved to Tokyo, trying to leave the past behind. But no matter how far I ran, the memories followed me. I worked hard, trying to build a new life for myself. It wasn't easy, but I was determined.

Meeting Gojo was like finding a light in the darkness. When I met Gojo, I was hesitant to let him in. He was persistent, charming in a way that reminded me too much of Sukuna. But there was something different about him, a genuine kindness that broke through my defenses.

Where Sukuna had been chaotic and intense, Gojo was steady and reliable. He brought a sense of calm and safety that I hadn't felt in a long time. But even with his presence, the scars of my past remained. They were a part of me, a reminder of the strength it took to survive and the pain that I had endured.

Meeting Gojo was a twist of fate. He brought a spark of light back into my life, a glimmer of hope that I had long forgotten. But with him came Sukuna, the ghost of my past that I could never quite escape.

As I look back on my past, I realize that it shaped who I am today. It gave me the strength to face my fears, to stand up for myself, and to fight for what I believe in. It taught me that love can be both beautiful and devastating, and that healing is a journey that never truly ends. I carry my past with me, but I no longer let it define me. Instead, I use it as a source of strength, a reminder of how far I've come and how much I've overcome.

And as I face the challenges of the present, I do so with the knowledge that I have survived the worst of what life can throw at me. I am stronger than I was before, and I am determined to face whatever comes my way with the same resilience and courage that got me through the darkest days of my past.

::.............................................::

Hey there guyz!!

How are you all??

Okay so here is a chapter that explains everything related to (Y/N).

A traumatic past, isn't it?

But anyways, your reviews are what matters to me the most. I need you people to share your thoughts about the book in the comments. It will really be appreciated you know.

And I m really grateful to the readers who are here and reading my story like loyal readers.

I  love you people so much.

Till the next chapter comes.

See you again soon.